


Dream of Life: Interlude of Blues

by pl2363



Series: Dream of Life- universe [3]
Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers AU - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Rape, Slavery, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl2363/pseuds/pl2363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rescued or condemned to a worse fate? Bluestreak is no longer alone in his gilded cage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "So give me something to believe  
> 'Cause I am living just to breathe  
> And I need something more  
> To keep on breathing for  
> So give me something to believe,"
> 
> 'Believe' by The Bravery

Two thin conical containers filled with a white-colored glowing high-grade sat beside small stacks of various energon confections in an array of colors on a tray that had been placed on the small round table in the drawing room. Treats to be consumed over conversation.  
  
Having no interest in the treats, Bluestreak sat staring at his owner, Thundercracker. Once a week the seeker would appear with this ridiculous tray and try to awkwardly talk with him. Bluestreak frowned at the larger mech. His isolation here was almost worst then back on Swindle’s compound. The area he inhabited was nice; he had a berthroom, the drawing room and a private washrack, too. But it was still _isolation_. A door that remained closed until Thundercracker opened it cut him off from the rest of the house. His only true reprieve from the spark crippling loneliness was Jazz’s weekly visits.  
  
Thundercracker flicked his wings behind him. He was currently seated on the couch Bluestreak and Jazz had ‘faced on a few days before. The couches were meant for winged mechs, lacking backs, which turned out to be conveniently comfortable for Bluestreak.  
  
Leaning forward, Thundercracker picked up one of the conical containers, then held it out for Bluestreak. “Please, have some.”  
  
“Not interested,” Bluestreak replied.  
  
Sighing, Thundercracker sat back and sipped the fuel himself. “It seems you’re in an especially sour mood today.”  
  
Bluestreak dimmed his optics. “You try being locked up like this and let me know what kind of mood it puts you in.”  
  
Thundercracker frowned. "Are the weekly visitations with Jazz not enough?"  
  
Scoffing, Bluesteak shook his head. "It's enough to keep me from offlining myself." He wasn't usually this blunt with Thundercracker, but the long weeks of isolation had built up inside and he simply couldn't contain it any longer.  
  
"I don't mean for this to feel like punishment. Your being here means you are safe from harm," Thundercracker replied. "What more do you expect from me? I've provided you with more than any other Autobot has the privilege of."  
  
"You could start by not locking me in here. It's not like I'm going to run off. Frag, where would I go? Just the illusion of a little freedom would be nice, you know? To be able to wander around the whole apartment instead just my little area here." Sighing air from his intakes, Bluestreak shifted his gaze to the tray. Why was he bothering telling him all this? Nothing would change. He'd complained before, and nothing changed. It was as if Thundercracker simply didn't grasp what it was like to be so terribly lonely.  
  
"I will ask Soundwave if we can bump up the amount of visits." Thundercracker stood and set his half consumed high-grade back on the try. Without another word the larger seeker exited, the door snapping shut behind him.  
  
Bluestreak's doorwings sank. He stared at the door then angrily grabbed the abandoned conical container, tossing it with his full fury at the door. The glowing contents splattered and dribbled down the metallic surface as the container dropped to the floor and rolled.  
  
Tears welled on his optics. Primus, what was the point of existing anymore?  
  
...  
  
  
Every micrometer of Mirage’s being hurt. He lay front first on the berth, where his master had left him hours ago, unmoving. Floating in and out of reality and recharge. He’d not properly fueled in his weeks here, leaving his systems sluggish and unresponsive.  
  
What vague hope he’d once held for reconciliation between the factions had been shattered. The chards cut and shred his world into the tattered mess now around him. It was clear now just how much anger and resentment the lower classes held toward the rest of them. That realization crystallizing each time his master forced himself on him. Mirage offlined his optics. His only hope now was for death. For a release from this sham of a life.  
  
In the distance, the front door to the apartment opened, and heavy footfall indicated his master’s return.  
  
“Hey! You’re still lying there?” Skywarp asked.  
  
He sounded annoyed, but Mirage didn’t respond. He slipped into the back of his mind, finding a quiet numb place to inhabit while Skywarp did whatever he felt like doing.  
  
“Get up, you worthless piece of slag!” Skywarp grabbed his Mirage’s arm, yanking him to roll over to his back.  
  
Mirage remained limp, with his optics offlined.  
  
“Hey…” Skywarp’s voice took on a hue of concern. “Get up!”  
  
Perhaps if he remained impassive Skywarp would leave him be.  
  
“Um… Autobot?”  
  
Then the footsteps echoed again as Skywarp quickly walked out of the room. Mirage relaxed, ready to slip back into a restless recharge. Just as he was about to offline, the footsteps returned. He was lifted up into his master’s grip. Mirage had no fight left in him, not even bothering to react.  
  
Skywarp carted him though the apartment and he heard the front door slide open then closed. He dimly lit his optics for a brief moment, seeing they were in the hallway. He’d not left the apartment since arriving. Where was Skywarp taking him? He wasn't sure what disturbed him more, not knowing, or not caring if he knew... Offlining his optics again, he hoped wherever it was he’d finally have a reprieve from this seeker’s abuse, even if were only temporary.  
  
The sound of another door opening told him they were at another apartment.  
  
“TC!” Skywarp’s grip on Mirage’s battered frame tightened. “He’s broken!”  
  
Mirage internally laughed. He was _far_ beyond broken.  
  
“Inside _now_ , and set him down,” Thundercracker replied.  
  
The soft cushioning of a couch supported Mirage’s battered body as he was lowered down.  
  
“What did you do?” Thundercracker asked, his voice taking on a sharp accusatory tone. Mirage felt delicate fingers sweep over his plating, inspecting carefully. Skywarp had dented and scratched him, never bothering to tend the wounds afterward. With so little fuel in his systems, his auto repair had failed to mend the damages.  
  
The soft touches soon reached his interface cover, which due to being dented no longer retracted properly, leaving him partially exposed. A small growl escaped Thundercracker’s vocalizer. “And you’ve been fragging him?”  
  
“He’s mine! I can do what I want,” Skywarp replied.  
  
“He’s not a pleasure drone! Drones don’t have sparks! You can abuse them all you want, this is another mech. You have to actually _take care_ of him,” Thundercracker snapped.  
  
Mirage dimly lit his optics. Thundercracker had gotten to his feet and stood with his face in his comrade’s.  
  
“Stop lecturing me! Just tell me how to fix him!” Skywarp yelled.  
  
Thundercracker grabbed Skywarp’s wing, pinching it hard. The purple seeker yelped and crumpled to his knees.  
  
“Let go!” Skywarp cried out.  
  
Thundercracker didn’t let go as he dropped to one knee in front of Skywarp. “How much did you pay for him?”  
  
“1,700 creds. Let go, TC!”  
  
“I will pay you 2,000 credits for him, and you will not buy another Autobot or I will personally slag you. Are we clear?” Thundercracker’s hand twisted the tip of the wing in his grasp, punctuating his statement.  
  
“Yes!” Skywarp yelped. “Fine, take him!”  
  
“Promise me you will not purchase another one,” Thundercracker said.  
  
“I promise! Just let go!” Skywarp weakly shoved at Thundercracker.  
  
Letting go, the blue seeker stood back up. Skywarp gave him a dirty look as he reached to rub his wingtip. “You’re such a fragging glitch, you know that?”  
  
Skywarp eventually got to his feet and the two exchanged cards, completing the transaction.  
  
Glancing over, Skywarp sourly frowned at Mirage. “ _Now_ he lights his optics.” He made a derisive sound at Mirage. “You may be pretty, but you’re a lousy lay.”  
  
Thundercracker also looked over at Mirage, sympathy written across his face.  
  
“I’m outta here.” Skywarp said as he stalked toward the door and exited.  
  
Once the door closed, Thundercracker looked down at the floor, his optics dimming briefly. _Probably using his comm link,_ Mirage thought. His optics returned to their usual glow, and he walked over to Mirage. “I have a medic on his way to look you over. When did you last fuel?”  
  
A sardonic smile curved Mirage’s lips. “I don’t remember.” His voice was staticy-sounding from lack of care and his extended sessions of screaming and crying while Skywarp fragged him.  
  
The look of worry on Thundercracker’s face deepened. He then turned and disappeared down an adjacent hallway. Mirage relaxed against the couch. He could hardly believe he’d just been traded away for credits to another Decepticon. Humiliation burned in his chest at just how far he’d fallen.  
  
“Mirage!”  
  
Weakly turning his head, Mirage caught sight of a familiar face: Bluestreak. He was following Thundercracker, holding a cleansing cloth and bottle. The seeker held a medical grade emergency energon ration pouch.  
  
“Oh, Mirage…” Bluestreak’s optics dimmed. “You in pain?”  
  
Thundercracker seemed unconcerned with Bluestreak’s direct question as he attached the line to the pouch of energon.  
  
“Yes,” Mirage answered.  
  
Bluestreak sat down on the edge of the couch beside him, placing the items in his lap so he could reach out and lightly pat Mirage’s chest. Up close, Mirage could see Bluestreak’s plating was in almost pristine condition. He didn’t look like he was being abused.  
  
Fingers pried at his side paneling, and Mirage instinctually jerked.  
  
“It’s okay! He’s going to give you fuel,” Bluestreak quickly said.  
  
Lack of fuel and weeks of torture had left his grasp on reality in tatters. Mirage stared at Bluestreak wondering if he was imagining all this. Maybe he’d slid so far back in his mind he was having a mental breakdown. A delusion of being rescued.  
  
His side panel was popped off and a line attached. Fuel soon streamed into his body’s fuel tank.  
  
“Clean him up a little, Blue,” Thundercracker directed as he held the pouch up, letting its contents drain into Mirage’s fuel-starved body.  
  
Mirage softly sighed air from his intakes, as his body’s systems started to properly do their jobs again. Even his auto repair kicked on, leaving him unexpectedly drowsy. Bluestreak did as he was asked, pouring cleanser into the cloth in his hands and then carefully working to remove the evidence of forced coupling from Mirage’s hips and thighs.  
  
The door buzzed, and Thundercracker got to his feet, handing Bluestreak the nearly empty energon pouch. He walked over to the door, answering it.  
  
“Thank you for coming so quickly, Tremorwave,” Thundercracker said, stepping aside for the visitor.  
  
“No problem,” said the medic. “Nothing else to do today, anyway. Whoa, what do we have here?” The medic dropped his tool case on the ground and popped the lid, pulling out a medical syringe. “How about some real rest, huh? Don’t worry it’s not that nasty slag Swindle hands out. Just something to let you offline for a bit while I work my magic.”  
  
The syringe was pressed into Mirage’s neck and almost instantly the world turned black as he offlined.  
  
…  
  
Warm. Mirage felt warm. He slowly onlined, and dimly lit his optics. Bluestreak lay curled up beside him, his face slack while he recharged. Mirage’s auto repair along with Bluestreak’s body pressed against his side had created the comforting envelope of warmth he found himself in.  
  
Mirage glanced down at his frame, seeing all the damages done by Skywarp were gone. He still had scarring from his time at the compound, but otherwise everything was how it had been before, including his interface array cover. _Thank Primus._  
  
His gaze then slowly circled the room they were in. It was decent sized with a large floor to ceiling window along one wall. To the right was an open door to the washrack, and directly ahead another that led to what looked like another room. The walls were dark gunmetal grey, with ornamental decorations trimming the top edges next to the ceiling. The sort of detailing he hadn’t seen since the golden age at his own estate.  
  
If he’d finally lost his mind and now existed in some sort of delusion, at least it was a nice looking place to be trapped in.    
  
Bluestreak shifted and lit his optics. “Hey. You’re up.”  
  
Mirage glanced at the younger mech.  
  
“Feeling better?” Bluestreak asked.  
  
“Is this real?” Mirage asked back.  
  
Bluestreak suddenly looked concerned. “Yeah, this is my—Well, I guess it’s _our_ room now.”  
  
“So Thundercracker did in fact buy me from Skywarp?” Mirage asked.  
  
“Yeah, I guess,” Bluestreak replied, his optic ridge knitting with a look of worry.  
  
Mirage decided to accept this as reality, whether it was or not didn’t matter. He just needed something to hold onto after having his hope ripped away from him.  
  
“Want some energon?” Bluestreak asked as he sat up. “Got our own dispenser in here.”  
  
Mirage nodded, then pushed himself to sit up. Bluestreak hopped off the berth and went into the adjacent room. Slipping off the berth, Mirage followed. The other room’s walls were brighter in color, a subtle golden color. A geometric pattern adorned the trim around the doorways. Two couches specifically built for winged mechs sat on opposing walls with a small round table between.  
  
"Here." Bluestreak pressed a cube of energon into Mirage's hand. "You need it."  
  
Mirage vaguely nodded as he took a sip. He glanced at the closed door. "Are we locked in here?"  
  
"Yeah," Bluestreak replied as he also glanced at the main doorway. "Thundercracker isn't a bad owner or anything. But, he's kept me locked in here pretty much most of the time. He only unlocks it occasionally when Jazz visits."  
  
Mirage's gaze snapped to Bluestreak. "Jazz?"  
  
Bluestreak nodded. "Yeah. Thundercracker and Soundwave have an arrangement and he comes here once a week for four hours."  
  
"Soundwave purchased him?" Mirage asked, putting the pieces together.  
  
Nodding, Bluestreak sadly smiled. "Jazz is lucky. Soundwave takes him all sorts of places. When he comes over I make him tell me all about what he's done."  
  
A strange sadness suddenly filled Mirage. His former unit commander, Soundwave's slave. Bluestreak locked away in this pretty prison cell. Wait--now he was locked in here, too. It was then reality truly started to settle over Mirage. He sank down to sit on the couch.  
  
Bluestreak plopped down beside him. "But at least we'll have each other, right?"  
  
Mirage slowly nodded. A mixture of emotions twisted inside him. He was beyond relieved to be no longer be a pleasure bot for Skywarp, but at the same time upset knowing he'd been placed in a fancy cage. He'd once owned an entire estate as beautiful as this apartment... Now his past would mock him from the very walls that enclosed him.  
  
What was the point of going on? Why bother living on like this?  
  
Bluestreak gently touched his shoulder. "You okay?"  
  
Mirage glanced at the younger mech, shaking his head. "Nothing will ever be okay ever again."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this will require 3 chapters. Head-cannon that Thundercracker was an 'elite' in Vosian society. 
> 
> Warning for interfacing scene.
> 
> Grammar abuse ahead, I wrote this quickly and I'm just tossing it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Do you believe  
> In what you see?  
> Motionless wheel  
> Nothing is real.  
> Wasting my time  
> In the waiting line.  
> Do you believe in  
> What you see?"  
> 'In the waiting line' by Zero 7

The door opened. Thundercracker stood with Jazz and motioned to Mirage. They nodded as they walked past one another, and Mirage followed the larger seeker out of their locked cage.

After Jazz’s first couple visits, Soundwave and Thundercracker had changed their arrangement to allow him to visit two times a week. One time for all three to socialize, and the other so Jazz could have one on one time with Bluestreak. On his very first visit, Jazz informed Mirage that he and Bluestreak were 'involved'. They both tried to down play it. Act as if it wasn’t an issue now that Mirage was there, but he still felt his presence was essentially putting a dampener on things. Who was he to spoil the one small corner of joy they’d found?

Today was Jazz’s first extra visit under the new arrangement, and for the first time since arriving, Mirage had been removed from their cage for more than just a walk to the front door to bid farewell to his former unit leader.

In step behind Thundercracker, Mirage was led down the small hallway and out to the foyer. The seeker turned and walked down an adjoining corridor. Mirage’s gaze wandered the walls on each side. A beautiful, swirling pattern had been etched into their surface. Halfway down on the right side the wall ended, opening up into a very large living area. A semi-circle couch sat in the center, elegant cabinets lined one wall, and a huge bay window offered a rather spectacular view.

Mirage slowed to a stop, recognizing the ruins in the distance as that of Iacon. It was a strange juxtaposition to see the destroyed landscape beyond the rebuilt area. His spark silently ached. There was a time long ago when everything made sense to him. He knew his place and purpose in the world, and now that place was nothing more than rubble.

“Mirage,” Thundercracker said in a stern tone.

Snapping his attention back to his new master, Mirage bowed his head and resumed walking. At the end of the corridor were doors to several rooms. Thundercracker made a sharp left into the first one. Inside, shelving covered two walls, filled with neatly lined up datapads.

Thundercracker sat himself down at the desk and motioned to the bench seat. “You may sit there.”

May? Mirage suppressed the urge to disdainfully snort at the seeker as he plopped himself down. He sighed air from his intakes as he looked around the smaller space. The edges of the datapads were each marked. He sharply focused his optics on the closest ones, reading some of the neatly handwritten labels. Titles of historic works? Mirage canted his head, curious why Thundercracker would bother collecting such data files.

“If you see something you’d like to read, you're welcome to borrow it,” Thundercracker said.

Mirage’s attention shifted back to his master. Thundercracker had several more datapads stacked on his desk, one of which he’d picked up to read.

“This is what we’ll be doing once a week? Sitting here reading in silence?” Mirage asked.

Thundercracker’s red optics flicked up to stare at Mirage. “That was the plan.”

Mirage dimmed his optics. He’d hoped for more than just sitting in silence. Turning his gaze to the floor he found his desire to slip into numbness start to creep in. He’d not really faced or dealt with anything that happened to him in Skywarp’s apartment. A task made easy with Bluestreak at his side. The younger mech would talk; fill the air with words so Mirage had something else to focus on. Something other than what he’d been through. Silence was the last thing he wanted right now.

Settling into his seat, Thundercracker turned his focus to the datapad in his grasp as the air between them grew heavy with unwanted silence.

Memories started to flash in Mirage’s mind: Rough hands forcing him down, the weight of the larger mech over top of him, his desperate unanswered cries for help…

He tensed. No, this silence was not what Mirage wanted at all. Distractions…he needed to focus on something else. He turned his gaze to the doorway, seeing it too was decorated. Old Cybertronian lettering that arched over the entrance, reading: Library. In the absence of Bluestreak’s chatter, Mirage decided he’d fill the air with words himself. “Your apartment is nothing like your comrade’s. Where did you get all this elite class décor?”

“Salvaged.” Thundercracker looked at Mirage over the edge of his datapad.

“From the old Iacon towers?” Mirage asked.

“I suppose so. I’m not from Iacon,” Thundercracker replied, his face a mask of indifference.

Mirage glanced back at the adornment over the door, then over to the shelves. “And the collecting of old fiction and historical texts? This is a hobby?”

“Not so much a hobby as a strong desire to preserve what is left,” Thundercracker replied.

Odd, thought Mirage as he gave the seeker a sidelong look.

Thundercracker canted his head. “Anymore questions? Or may I read in peace?”

“Do what you like,” Mirage replied. He sighed sir from his intakes. An unsettled feeling rolled through his body. He felt like emptying the shelves, smashing every last one of the datapads. Destroying them just like how he felt he’d been destroyed. Anger so deep, he began to slightly tremble in his attempt to contain it.

“Are you all right?” Thundercracker asked, genuine concern coloring his voice.

Mirage shook his head slowly. He was not all right. In fact, he knew he would never be ‘right’ again. His body maybe repaired now, but he still felt fragile and breakable. Reaching up, he clasped the collar around his neck with one hand. From a locked cell on Swindle’s compound, to a locked apartment where he’d been violated, to a locked room with Bluestreak, to this… “Moved from one cell to another, this time with a guard,” he said quietly.

Thundercracker’s optics shined with vague confusion. “Excuse me?”

“While I admit the area we are confined to is quite lovely, it still is nothing more than a prison cell.” Mirage continued to finger his collar. “Why do you keep us locked up?”

Irritation flashed over Thundercracker’s face. “The situation is not designed to punish.”

“And yet it feels like punishment. As if the side we chose in the war now makes us less valuable, like we are just things. Pets.” Mirage practically spat the last word.

Thundercracker bridled at the remark. His wings tensed behind him. Mirage managed to strike a nerve. Good. Maybe he’d listen. Bluestreak insisted he’d asked time and time again for free access to the rest of the apartment, but been rebuffed every time.

“You are not a ‘pet’. I provide for both you. You have no needs unmet. I don’t understand either one of you and this desire to roam the entire apartment,” Thundercracker said, his anger and confusion melding as he spoke.

Mirage stared at the seeker in disbelief. He doesn’t understand? Straightening his posture, Mirage clasped his hands in his lap. He apparently needed to couch this in terms Thundrecracker could grasp. “I imagine as a flyer that being grounded is akin to being locked up. Would that be a fair assessment?”

Raising an optic ridge at Mirage, Thundercracker nodded.

“Imagine not only being grounded, but not even given the chance to see the sky overhead.” Mirage gestured in the air as he spoke. “That is what it feels like to us being locked away in there. A large window that affords us the view of the side of the adjacent building. Walls that, while beautiful, imprison us. All we would like is the freedom to walk around within the apartment.”

A dour look overtook Thundercracker’s face. “I’ll think about it.”

Mirage wasn’t sure he’d gotten through, but at least he’d tried.

“Why not pick something to read. We’ve got another couple hours,” Thundercracker said he refocused on his datapad. “It’s a better distraction than trying to annoy me.”

Defeated, Mirage deflated in his seat. Was he that transparent? Or was it that obvious how uncomfortable the silence was for him? Heaving a thick sigh of air from his intakes, he got to his feet and wandered over to the shelves to comb through the available texts. What a miserable existence he led. He really would be better off dead…

…

Whining, Bluestreak grasped at the slick wall of the washrack he was pressed front first against. Jazz’s spike slid in and out of his heated, clutching valve with controlled force. Jazz was unlike any lover Bluestreak had before. He was tender but always intense, and insatiable at times, today being one of those times. They’d not only interfaced on their favorite couch, but messed around in the berth for a while and now, during their clean up, he’d initiated yet another round.

Jazz’s hands around Bluestreak’s waist tightened their grip as his pace started to quicken. Pressing the side of his face against the washrack wall, Bluestreak made small squeaked moans with each upward thrust. He wanted his doorwings touched so badly, but when Jazz was focused he seemed to forget about them. Flaring his doorwings, Bluestreak twisted to try and look at Jazz over his shoulder. “Please…”

“Anythin’ you want, Blue,” Jazz replied. Moments later a hand slid over the top edge of his right doorwing, then down along the backside.

Bluestreak practically melted against the steam-covered wall. The dual sensations of stimulation to his sensitized doorwing and the relentless, repeating penetration of his valve drove him to the edges of overload. He incoherently moaned Jazz’s name, which was met with a light sounding chuckle.

The pace grew insistent as Jazz pushed himself deeper into Bluestreak’s valve. Unable to hang on a moment longer, Bluestreak overloaded as Jazz entered with an especially deep push. His valve clamped down around the invading force, squeezing his partner. Jazz grunted as he unloaded yet another deposit of cycled mech fluid into Bluestreak’s valve vault. The electrical zings from the mixture of their fluids caused Bluestreak to shiver and groan as the sensation of climax seemed to last longer than previously. Jazz leaned his weight into Bluestreak, his body trembling against him.

“Frag, Blue…” Jazz said, his voice ragged-sounding.

“Yeah, that’s what you just did,” Bluestreak replied, chuckling.

Jazz laughed, as he slid his arm around Bluestreak’s body, hugging him from behind and nuzzling his neck just above the collar. “Yer one amazing mech.”

“And you’re completely insatiable today,” Bluesreak replied. “Not that I’m complaining…”

“Eh, two weeks without my Blue. Gotta get my pent up desire taken care of,” Jazz replied. “I missed being with just you.”

Pushing back, Jazz carefully shifted his hips, slipping free of Bluestreak’s valve. The sensation left his formerly filled body feel so empty, and he bit back a whimper. Sighing as he turned around, Bluestreak used the wall to help prop him up. “Missed you, too,” he replied.

Jazz placed a hand on Bluestreak’s hip and leaned forward, pressing a loving kiss to the center of Bluestreak’s chevron.

Pulling back, his warm expression shifted to curious. “How's ‘Raj doin’?”

Bluestreak frowned. “He has a lot of bad memory feedback at night. Wakes me up a lot.”

Jazz frowned. “That sucks slag. You gettin’ enough rest?”

“I’m fine,” Bluestreak replied.

“Sure are,” Jazz replied, grinning.

"Ha ha, very funny." Bluestreak playfully punched Jazz’s arm. “Mirage is mostly acting like himself, but I can tell he’s hiding from what happened to him. You should have seen him when he got here, Jazz. Skywarp—” Bluestreak shook his head. “ _Hurt_ him. _Bad_.”

Jazz’s expression sobered. “Yeah. Keep a watchful optic on him fer me, ‘kay?”

“I will,” Bluestreak replied. The then glanced at the washrack sprayer, which was currently off. “Guess we should clean up. You know, for real this time?”

A smile returned to Jazz’s lips. “What’s the fun in that?”

Playfully shoving Jazz, Bluesteak attempted to slip past him, but was caught in Jazz’s grasp and hugged tightly. Their faces hovered close as Bluestreak stared into that lovely, glowing visor.

Jazz quirked a smile. “Goin’ someplace?”

Bluestreak leaned into Jazz’s grasp. “I was but I kinda forgot where.”

Laughing, Jazz captured Bluestreak’s lips in a kiss. It quickly deepened, their glossa twinning between their linked mouths.

Whether the affection Bluestreak felt for Jazz was born out of his loneliness or not, he didn’t really care. Jazz made him feel special and cared for in a way no one had before. He’d take whatever was offered and be grateful for these moments when the world around him felt almost normal.

…

The warmth at Mirage’s side, shifted. He dimly lit his optics to see Bluestreak sitting up, stretching his arms over his head. Mirage had zero attraction to the younger mech, but he did like the comfort that came with a constant companion. Bluestreak lowered his arms and glanced over at Mirage.

“Energon?” Bluestreak asked.

Mirage nodded.

They both slid off the large berth and wandered to the drawing room. Mirage came to a halt, his optics sharply focusing on what he assumed was a delusion. The door to the hallway was…wide open.

“Here you go,” Bluestreak said in a chipper tone as he handed Mirage a glass of energon. “What’s the matter?”

Mirage took the glass with one hand while pointing with the other. “The door.”

Bluestreak turned his attention toward the usually locked entrance. “What the frag? It’s open!”

“I’m not seeing things?” Mirage asked.

“No. Think something is wrong?” Bluestreak asked. “Like maybe Thundercracker is hurt or something?”

“Maybe we should investigate.” Mirage set his energon down on the small round table and walked toward the door.

Bluestreak did the same and followed Mirage into the hallway. The proceeded out the foyer, and Mirage turned toward the corridor he’d been led down the day before, with Bluestreak on his heels. When they reached the open entryway to the living area, they both stopped.

Thundercracker sat on the semi-circular couch, datapad in one hand and what looked like high grade in a conical container in the other. He glanced up at them.

“The door was open!” Bluestreak blurted. “Are we in trouble?”

Thundercracker shook his head, no.

Mirage narrowed his optics on their master, distrustful of his motives for suddenly unlocking the door.

The seeker motioned to them to enter the living area, which they did.

Thundercracker set his high-grade down on a table in front of the couch, then turned to face them. “After some serious consideration, I have decided to leave the door to your shared area unlocked. The only rule I will place on your freedom to roam the apartment, is that my berthroom at the end of the hall is off limits.” Thundercracker glanced at his cabinets filled with various collected trinkets. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t open the cabinets in here.” Shifting his gaze back to them, his wings flicked behind him. “Understood?”

They both nodded.

“Why did you change your mind, though? I’ve been asking ever since I got here,” Bluestreak said, sounding confused.

“Your companion here reiterated your arguments and swayed me into changing my mind,” Thundercracker replied.

Mirage stared at Thundercracker in disbelief. The seeker met his gaze, red optics softening their glow.

Bluestreak wandered over to the bay window a few meters away. "Wow. This view. It's amazing. Are we at the top of the building?"

"Yes, top floor," Thundercracker replied without breaking his gaze on Mirage.

"I thought I annoyed you," Mirage said quietly.

"You did," Thundercracker replied.

"Then why did you change your mind?" Mirage asked.

"You can see old Iacon from here," Bluestreak said, oblivious to the conversation Thundercracker and Mirage were engaged in.

Thundercracker's wings lowered behind him. "I prefer my privacy. After eons of being trapped with the only other surviving Seekers, I was looking forward to a life on my own again."

"You simply didn't want to share?" Mirage asked, raising an optic ridge.

Thundercracker smiled a little. "I suppose that's one way to put it."

"Still doesn't answer why you changed your mind. The real reason, I mean," Mirage replied.

Thundercracker didn't respond as he pushed to stand. "I have a meeting to attend. Please make yourselves comfortable in my absence, but also abide by my rules."

Bluestreak glanced over his shoulder in their direction and nodded.

Placing his large dark hand on Mirage's shoulder, Thundercracker gave it a gentle squeeze. "Library is open if you want to pick out something else to read."

Mirage stared up into his master's face, seeing sadness taint his expression. The larger seeker then let go and exited the living area.

"I feel almost dizzy looking down from up here," Bluestreak said as he glanced back over at Mirage and flashed a smile.

Smiling in reply, Mirage crossed the room to stand next to his companion. He was confused. Thundercracker hadn't answered his question, only offered up personal details.

"Mirage? You okay? Need me to get you some energon. I can go grab the ones from our room, and then we can hang out in here." Bluestreak's doorwings lifted behind him, clearly hoping Mirage agreed to his suggestion.

"Sure," Mirage replied.

"Be right back," Bluestreak said as he spun around and left the living area.

Sighing air from his intakes, Mirage turned his attention out the window. The question of 'why' flickering in his mind. Iacon buildings in the distance were nothing more than twisted heaps of metal. In the foreground new buildings stood. Maybe it was time for Mirage to work on rebuilding himself, too. Perhaps the answer to 'why' Thundercracker changed his mind would help rekindle his former belief that not all Decepticons were bent on revenge. Maybe this particular one was different. "I _will_ find out," Mirage said quietly to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Thinking once there was a power that you were wielding  
> And now I've hit the mark  
> Staring at the dark  
> And I cannot help but ignore the people staring at my scars
> 
> Let this be our little secret  
> No one needs to know were feeling  
> (Higher and higher and higher)"  
> 'Little Secrets' by Passion Pit

Mirage glanced over, watching Bluestreak play some sort of game on the datapad in his lap. Thundercracker had returned a few days before with various items he thought they'd might like, including the datapad  Bluestreak was playing with. The tension had slowly started to melt away between them and Thundercracker. Mirage still didn't understand the root cause of Thundercracker's change of spark, but he was glad to see their master more friendly and open toward them. It made being here far more tolerable.  
  
Having finished the text he was reading, Mirage slid to the edge of their large, shared berth and stood. "I'm going to get another text to read. Be right back."  
  
"It's late," Bluestreak replied. He paused his game and stared at Mirage. "You want me to go with you?"  
  
Mirage smiled. Bluestreak was so attentive without prompting. "I'll be fine. I won't be but a few minutes."  
  
Bluestreak nodded and smiled. "Okay."  
  
Padding down the hallway, Mirage made his way to the library. Entering the room, the lighting came on automatically, illuminating the shelves filled with old texts. He found the proper slot for the one he'd borrowed, and then began to skim the spines of the others for something else of interest to read.  
  
"It's late."  
  
Mirage nearly jumped out of his plating at the unexpected, low voice. He looked over to see the large, blue seeker looming in the doorway.  
  
"I apologize if I broke a rule," Mirage replied, unable to hide the slight quiver in his voice. Just the outline of the similar body shape seemed to be enough to trigger his fear. _He’s not Skywarp_ , Mirage mentally reminded himself.  
  
"You didn't." Thundercraker stepped inside, turning his attention to the shelves. He then slid a datapad in his hand into it's rightful place.  
  
Seemed they both liked reading at night. Mirage managed to relax a little, then glanced back at the shelves, resuming his search.  
  
"Here, you might like this one." Thundercracker removed datapad and offered it to Mirage.  
  
Graciously accepting the offered item, Mirage examined the spine and title. "'Taking Flight: The story of a grounded mech'. Hm. Interesting."  
  
"You'll like it," Thundercracker replied.  
  
Mirage met the larger seeker's gaze, red optics softly glowing at him. The way Thundercracker held himself was so different than how Skywarp had. He always stood straight-backed, wings held high, and he walked with a dignified air. "You are very different than what I... initially thought," Mirage said.  
  
"Oh? And what do you think now?" Thundercracker asked with a low rumble in his voice that reverberated in the air between them.  
  
"You could easily pass for an Elite Iacon mech," Mirage replied. "That's what I once was."  
  
Thundercracker then smiled. "Perhaps because I was an Elite Vosian?"  
  
"You were?" That certainly explained a lot. "Well then, I suppose we have more in common than I realized," Mirage replied.  
  
Tipping his head at Mirage, Thundercracker flashed a smile. "It would appear so."  
  
…  
  
Mirage gazed through the clear glass of the cabinets at the items locked inside. The case he stood in front of in the living area was filled various types of games. He remembered playing most of these games in his parlour with guests when he'd have small gatherings in his former estate.  
  
"What are those things, anyway?" Bluestreak asked.  
  
"Various games. That one is called 'Go', that one is 'Strategy', and the one in the back is called 'Fiction or fact'," Mirage replied as he pointed.  
  
"Never heard of 'em," Bluestreak replied.  
  
It wasn't surprising that Bluestreak has no idea. Only Elites seemed to bother with these old games passed down through the generations that were played at small gatherings in one another’s homes, while they all sipped various types of high-grade energon. A life Mirage was now beginning to feel must have happened to someone else.  
  
“Hey, look! Thundercracker is flying in,” Bluestreak said as he pointed out the large bay window.  
  
The seeker transformed as he neared the building, landing with nothing short of grace on the balcony outside his room. His posture exuded confidence as he walked to the doorway, quickly disappearing inside his room.  
  
“Must be really cool to be able to fly like that,” Bluestreak said. “I loved piloting small one-mech cruisers. Must be so much more intense just flying without anything around you like that.”  
  
“‘Cool’? You’re picking up some of Jazz’s linguistic traits, I see,” Mirage said, half-teasing the younger mech.  
  
Bluestreak snorted a laugh as he glanced back at Mirage. “I guess I have.”  
  
Mirage warmly smiled. “I’m glad that despite everything, you and he are happy.”  
  
The smile on Bluestreak’s face faded. “I wish you could be. I wish I could... fix things.”  
  
Shaking his head, Mirage sadly smiled. “I’m afraid there is no fixing me. But, I will admit, I’m very glad I’m not alone.”  
  
Turning toward Mirage, Bluestreak closed the space between them and reached out, placing a hand on Mirage’s upper arm. “Anything you need at all, just say so.”  
  
Mirage put his hand over Bluesteak’s and stared into his companion’s bright blue optics. “Thank you, Blue.”  
  
...  
  
It was Bluestreak’s turn to have Jazz to himself for a few hours. Mirage sat with Thundercracker in the library, each of them quietly reading. Initially, the silence of their time together had been horrifying for Mirage. But over the last few weeks he’d slowly adapted to it. If he kept his mind occupied with reading, then it rarely strayed to the darker places. In fact, that was how he coped most of the time, distractions.  
  
“You enjoy the text I chose for you the other evening?” Thundercracker said, shattering the long stretch of quiet.  
  
Mirage glanced up and nodded. “The descriptions of flight are very detailed. It’s almost like I know what it feels like now.”  
  
“Of everything I’ve ever read, that happens to be the most accurate when it comes to describing what flight truly feels like.” Thundercracker set his datapad down on his desk, and fixed his gaze on Mirage.  
  
“It sounds exhilarating and freeing,” Mirage said, smiling.  
  
“Would you like to try it?” Thundercracker asked.  
  
“Try what?” Mirage asked back.  
  
Chuckling, Thundercracker shook his head. “Flying.”  
  
Mirage raised an optic ridge at the larger mech. “I lack a certain body type and equipment for flying.”  
  
“I don’t.” Thundercracker pushed to stand and rounded his desk. “Come on. I’ll take you up for a short flight.”  
  
“You’re being serious?” Mirage asked.  
  
“Very.” Thundercracker motioned to the doorway. “It is freeing. I would like you feel that. Even if only for a few minutes.”  
  
Mirage felt a tingle run up his spinal strut at Thundercracker’s words. This was an offered gift. How could he turn it down? Mirage stood up and nervously smiled as he set his text down on the bench. Thundercracker exited the room, with Mirage on his heels. Was he really going to do this? Allow this seeker to take him up into the air?  
  
…  
  
Bluestreak ran his fingers over Jazz's chestplate, following the line of his bumper. They were curled up together in the large berth he usually recharged with Mirage in. Just as somedays Jazz was insatiable, other days he was all about cuddling and just being close. Bluestreak’s thoughts weren't on Jazz at the moment, though.  
  
There was no doubt that the last couple weeks of freedom within the apartment had been wonderful. Being able to roam as they pleased, explore, stare out that large bay window.... And while it did bother him a little that Thundercracker listened to Mirage and not him, it bothered him more watching how Thundercracker behaved around Mirage. His cold demeanor softened. He'd smile. Talk to Mirage as an equal. Bluestreak wasn't so much jealous as he was worried. Mirage couldn't go a full recharge cycle without waking up crying. He was more fragile than he let on. What if Thundercracker liked Mirage? In more than a friendly way?  
  
"Yer more quiet than usual," Jazz said.  
  
Turning his head to peer up at Jazz, Bluestreak sadly smiled. "Lot on my mind."  
  
"Lay it on me," Jazz replied as he gently ran his fingers down Bluestreak's face.  
  
Heaving a sigh of air from his intakes, Bluestreak vaguely frowned. "Just worried about Mirage. Guess I've gotten attached to him."  
  
Jazz's visor dimmed. "Oh?"  
  
"Not like that. I mean--" Bluestreak's fingers pressed flat against Jazz's chest. "I don't have feelings for him like I do for you. I feel like he's my family here, you know?"  
  
"I trust you, Blue." Jazz flashed a small smile. "And I like that you an' him are gettin' along. He can be really hard to get to know. He's always been the type to be play things pretty close to the chest."  
  
"He cries almost every night in his recharge." Bluestreak dimmed his optics. "I'm worried he's kinda lost the ability to see bigger picture stuff."  
  
"Like?" Jazz asked.  
  
"I see how Thundercracker acts around him. He's always really curt and to the point with me, but with Mirage he lingers around. Tries to talk to him. And it's like Mirage can't see what's going on," Bluestreak said, trying to explain. Out loud it sounded pretty thin. Nothing like the gut feeling he had about what he'd witnessed over the last few weeks.  
  
"Hrm. Yer worried Thundercracker's gonna try somethin' on 'Raj?" Jazz asked.  
  
"Yeah." Bluestreak frowned. "Worried what that might do to Mirage."  
  
Jazz tugged Bluestreak closer and placed a kiss to the center of his chevron. Leaning back, he warmly smiled. "So long as yer here with him, he's gonna be just fine. Yer good like that."  
  
Overwhelmed, Bluestreak felt his spark wobble in his chest with emotions he prefered remain unnamed. In another place, another time, he might have professed the feeling pulsing deep within his spark, but not now. Not while collars ringed their necks. "I hope so.”  
  
“‘Raj is prolly tougher than you realize, too,” Jazz said as he gave Bluestreak a small squeeze.  
  
Bluestreak found comfort in Jazz’s reassurance and smiled at him.  
  
“B’sides, we just gotta hold out long enough ‘til things turn around,” Jazz said with confidence.  
  
Suddenly the comfort slipped away again. It had been so long since that ship left before the final battle. If their comrades were going to return, wouldn’t they have already done so? Come back and used the ‘special relic’ Jazz told Bluestreak about? A part of him wondered how Jazz could be so oddly optimistic in the face of everything around them. Whether Jazz was delusional or not, Bluestreak needed some sort of hope to hang onto. So why not Jazz’s story? Why not Jazz’s faith in him to be able to look after Mirage? Bluestreak discarded his doubts as best he could, and snuggled close to Jazz.  
  
…

  
The door to Thundercracker’s off-limits room slid open and they stepped inside. It was a spacious room. A huge berth sat on a raised platform in the middle, with a flowing curtain attached at the ceiling that draped down around half of it. An intricate, etched  pattern swirled and danced across the walls. The flooring had plates depicting historical events from their ancient past set between dark, almost black colored plates. Thundercracker had definitely saved the best items and decor for his own room.  
  
The seeker strode to the balcony door, palming the pad beside it. The doors slid open, allowing a gust of air to rush inside. “Shall we?”  
  
Mirage felt a small ripple of fear roll through him. He wasn’t sure he should do this. As much as part of him wanted to accept this offer, to know what being in the air truly felt like, the other part was utterly petrified of being touched by Thundercracker. He didn’t mind Bluestreak’s occasional touches, or even when he’d press his body against Mirage in their berth. This... was different, however. Thundercracker was the same size and shape as Mirage’s former tormentor, Skywarp. No matter how much reason and logic he’d try to apply to the situation, he could never fully erase that ingrained fear he now had.  
  
Thundercracker’s optics dimmed as his wings lowered marginally against his back. “You certainly aren’t required to do this.”  
  
Mirage could sense the disappointment. “It’s not that I don’t want to go. I do. I just--” Huffing air from his intakes he sadly frowned, suddenly wishing he still had his disruptor so he could make himself invisible and slip away. “I don’t think I can.”  
  
“Because I’m a seeker like Skywarp?” Thundercracker asked, though, it was more a statement than question. “I can’t undo what he did. I wish I’d even known he’d bought you. I would have intervened sooner. But he knows me... all too well, actually.” Thundercracker walked over to his berth, stepping up then sitting himself down on the edge. He patted the space beside him, inviting Mirage to join him.  
  
Despite the warring emotions roiling within Mirage, he forced himself closer out of respect and took a seat beside Thundercracker.  
  
“You asked me why I’d changed my mind about allowing you and Bluestreak out of your area before, and I eluded answering.” Thundercracker laced his fingers together in his lap. “Well, I half answered.”  
  
Mirage stared at the side of Thundercracker’s face. Despite his similar body to Skywarp’s his face was very different. He was regal looking, especially in profile.  
  
“Eons of sharing with my brother seekers, of cleaning up their messes, looking after our interests wore on me. I shared everything with them from energon rations to my berth. They are the only other survivors of our once beautiful home. I suppose I felt I obligated.” Thundercracker turned his head, looking at Mirage. “For the first time in so long I finally had a space that was solely mine. A place I didn’t have to share. And yet, I found myself deeply disagreeing with the selling of Autobots. If it were possible to buy more without raising suspicion, I would have. I had to settle for one and the night I purchased Bluestreak’s life, I was saving him from the other bidder who would have tortured him.” Thundercracker heaved a sigh of air from his intakes. “I kept you both locked away out of a purely selfish desire to be on my own.”  
  
“I suppose that makes sense,” Mirage replied. “Still doesn’t explain why I was able to change your mind when Bluestreak wasn’t able to.”  
  
Thundercracker half-smiled as his optic’s focus on Mirage softened. “Bluestreak is... a nice mech, but you argued the point more eloquently.”  
  
Mirage’s optics brightened. “I was under the impression I’d annoyed you.”  
  
Chuckling, Thundercracker shook his head. “The opposite. The truth is I’m rather fond of you.”  
  
Tensing a little, Mirage politely smiled. “I see.”  
  
A sad look swept Thundercracker’s face. “I’m willing to take whatever you feel comfortable with, even if it’s just shy friendship.”  
  
“I’m afraid that is all I will ever be able to share with you. I wish--” Mirage frowned. “--I wish I wasn’t so terribly broken.” It hurt to know he could never take what he knew Thundercracker was truly offering.  
  
Nodding, Thundercraker then forced a smile. “If you change your mind about the flight, just say the word.”  
  
“Maybe in time,” Mirage replied.  
  
For the first time in so long, a glimmer of hope touched Mirage’s spark. A genuine desire to one day heal the fractures in himself, which he’d not ever expected to feel. A trust he was willing to place in this Decepticon that was the embodiment of what Mirage had always believed. Beneath their classes, beneath their faction symbols, beneath everything they were all just Cybertronians.


End file.
